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which she had received that morning from William；
while ardent in its expression of affection； had conveyed
to her obliquely that he would prefer the announcement
of their engagement to coincide with that of Katharine’s。
This document Cassandra now produced； and read aloud；
with considerable excisions and much hesitation。
“… a thousand pities—ahem—I fear we shall cause a
great deal of natural annoyance。 If； on the other hand；
what I have reason to think will happen； should happen—
within reasonable time； and the present position is
not in any way offensive to you； delay would； in my opinion；
serve all our interests better than a premature explanation；
which is bound to cause more surprise than is
desirable—”
“Very like William；” Katharine exclaimed； having gathered
the drift of these remarks with a speed that； by
itself； disconcerted Cassandra。
“I quite understand his feelings；” Cassandra replied。 “I
quite agree with them。 I think it would be much better； if
you intend to marry Mr。 Denham； that we should wait as
William says。”
“But； then； if I don’t marry him for months—or； perhaps；
not at all？”
Cassandra was silent。 The prospect appalled her。
Katharine had been telephoning to Ralph Denham； she
looked queer； too； she must be； or about to bee； engaged
to him。 But if Cassandra could have overheard the
conversation upon the telephone； she would not have
felt so certain that it tended in that direction。 It was to
this effect：
“I’m Ralph Denham speaking。 I’m in my right senses
now。”
“How long did you wait outside the house？”
“I went home and wrote you a letter。 I tore it up。”
“I shall tear up everything too。”
“I shall e。”
“Yes。 e today。”
“I must explain to you—”
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Night and Day
“Yes。 We must explain—”
A long pause followed。 Ralph began a sentence； which
he canceled with the word； “Nothing。” Suddenly； together；
at the same moment； they said goodbye。 And yet； if the
telephone had been miraculously connected with some
higher atmosphere pungent with the scent of thyme and
the savor of salt； Katharine could hardly have breathed
in a keener sense of exhilaration。 She ran downstairs on
the crest of it。 She was amazed to find herself already
mitted by William and Cassandra to marry the owner
of the halting voice she had just heard on the telephone。
The tendency of her spirit seemed to be in an altogether
different direction； and of a different nature。 She had
only to look at Cassandra to see what the love that results
in an engagement and marriage means。 She considered
for a moment； and then said： “If you don’t want to
tell people yourselves； I’ll do it for you。 I know William
has feelings about these matters that make it very difficult
for him to do anything。”
“Because he’s fearfully sensitive about other people’s
feelings；” said Cassandra。 “The idea that he could upset
Aunt Maggie or Uncle Trevor would make him ill for weeks。”
This interpretation of what she was used to call William’s
conventionality was new to Katharine。 And yet she felt it
now to be the true one。
“Yes； you’re right；” she said。
“And then he worships beauty。 He wants life to be beautiful
in every part of it。 Have you ever noticed how exquisitely
he finishes everything？ Look at the address on
that envelope。 Every letter is perfect。”
Whether this applied also to the sentiments expressed
in the letter； Katharine was not so sure； but when William’s
solicitude was spent upon Cassandra it not only failed to
irritate her； as it had done when she was the object of it；
but appeared； as Cassandra said； the fruit of his love of
beauty。
“Yes；” she said； “he loves beauty。”
“I hope we shall have a great many children；” said
Cassandra。 “He loves children。”
This remark made Katharine realize the depths of their
intimacy better than any other words could have done；
she was jealous for one moment； but the next she was
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Virginia Woolf
humiliated。 She had known William for years； and she
had never once guessed that he loved children。 She looked
at the queer glow of exaltation in Cassandra’s eyes；
through which she was beholding the true spirit of a
human being； and wished that she would go on talking
about William for ever。 Cassandra was not unwilling to
gratify her。 She talked on。 The morning slipped away。
Katharine scarcely changed her position on the edge of
her father’s writingtable； and Cassandra never opened
the “History of England。”
And yet it must be confessed that there were vast lapses
in the attention which Katharine bestowed upon her
cousin。 The atmosphere was wonderfully congenial for
thoughts of her own。 She lost herself sometimes in such
deep reverie that Cassandra； pausing； could look at her
for moments unperceived。 What could Katharine be thinking
about； unless it were Ralph Denham？ She was satisfied；
by certain random replies； that Katharine had wandered
a little from the subject of William’s perfections。
But Katharine made no sign。 She always ended these
pauses by saying something so natural that Cassandra
was deluded into giving fresh examples of her absorbing
theme。 Then they lunched； and the only sign that
Katharine gave of abstraction was to forget to help the
pudding。 She looked so like her mother； as she sat there
oblivious of the tapioca； that Cassandra was startled into
exclaiming：
“How like Aunt Maggie you look！”
“Nonsense；” said Katharine； with more irritation than
the remark seemed to call for。
In truth； now that her mother was away； Katharine did
feel less sensible than usual； but as she argued it to
herself； there was much less need for sense。 Secretly； she
was a little shaken by the evidence which the morning
had supplied of her immense capacity for—what could
one call it？—rambling over an infinite variety of thoughts
that were too foolish to be named。 She was； for example；
walking down a road in Northumberland in the August
sunset； at the inn she left her panion； who was Ralph
Denham； and was transported； not so much by her own
feet as by some invisible means； to the top of a high hill。
Here the scents； the sounds among the dry heatherroots；
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Night and Day
the grassblades pressed upon the palm of her hand； were
all so perceptible that she could experience each one
separately。 After this her mind made excursions into the
dark of the air； or settled upon the surface of the sea；
which could be discovered over there； or with equal unreason
it returned to its couch of bracken beneath the
stars of midnight； and visited the snow valleys of the
moon。 These fancies would have been in no way strange；
since the walls of every mind are decorated with some
such tracery； but she found herself suddenly pursuing such
thoughts with an extreme ardor； which became a desire
to change her actual condition for something matching
the conditions of her dream。 Then she started； then she
awoke to the fact that Cassandra was looking at her in
amazement。
Cassandra would have liked to feel certain that； when
Katharine made no reply at all or one wide of the mark；
she was making up her mind to get married at once； but
it was difficult； if this were so； to account for some remarks
that Katharine let fall about the future。 She recurred
several times to the summer； as if she meant to
spend that season in solitary wandering。 She seemed to
have a plan in her mind which required Bradshaws and
the names of inns。
Cassandra was driven finally； by her own unrest； to put
on her clothes and wander out along the streets of Chelsea；
on the pretence that she must buy something。 But； in
her ignorance of the way； she became panicstricken at
the thought of being late； and no sooner had she found
the shop she wanted； than she fled back again in order
to be at home when William came。 He came； indeed； five
minutes after she had sat down by the teatable； and she
had the happiness of receiving him alone。 His greeting
put her dou